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WHITE SOX 



“ In they plunged, together, in too great a hurry to notice 
the resinous substance.” (See page 24.) 















Animal Life Series 


WHITE SOX 


The Story of the Reindeer 


in Alaska 

By William T. Lopp 


Superintendent of Education 
of Natives of Alaska 
Formerly Chief of Alaska Division 
United States Bureau of Education 
and Superintendent of Reindeer 
in Alaska 


Illustrated with drawings by 

H. Boylston Dummer 



Yonkers-on-Hudson, New York 

WORLD BOOK COMPANY 

2126 Prairie Avenue, Chicago 









0 

.3 


WORLD BOOK COMPANY 

THE HOUSE OF APPLIED KNOWLEDGE* 


Established 1905 by Caspar W. Hodgson 


L254 
U) $\ 


Yonkers-on-Hudson, New York 


2126 Prairie Avenue, Chicago 


To the minds of most children and a good 
many older persons, reindeer suggest Santa 
Claus, and no more. But the reindeer is 
one of man’s very necessary domestic ani¬ 
mals; it affords a means for reclaiming vast 
sub-Arctic regions that now lie waste; and 
in Alaska the government of the United 
States has introduced reindeer and encour¬ 
aged the raising of them, till now they are 
a source of wealth to the territory. To tell 
the story of the reindeer in our northerly 
territory is the purpose of the present little 
volume. Mr. William T. Lopp, the author, 
has been concerned with the government’s 
work in giving the reindeer to the natives 
of Alaska since the work was begun in the 
’90’s, and it was he who drove a herd of 
reindeer seven hundred miles for the relief 
of the whalers at Point Barrow in 1897. 
This story of White Sox is, then, the work 
of an authority on the reindeer; and the 
publishers feel that it is worthy of its place in 
Animal Life Series beside Matka, Dr. David 
Starr Jordan’s classic story of the fur seal 


als: LWS-1 

Copyright 1924 by World Book Company 
Copyright in Great Britain 
All rights reserved 


PRINTED IN TJ. 8. A. 

AUG 28 *24 


Cl A 803929 








CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction (Elmer Ellsworth Brown) .vii 

CHAPTER 

I. Astray from the Herd. 1 

II. A Taste of Wild Life .. 7 

III. White Sox Learns Many Things .... 14 

IV. A Race for Life..21 

V. White Sox Travels through a Blizzard. 28 

VI. Under the Arctic Moon. 34 

VII. Mother Reindeer’s Story of White Feet 40 

VIII. The First Human Friend. 46 

IX. White Feet Finds a Way of Serving Man 53 

X. The Hunter Becomes a Herder .... 60 

XI. How Mother Reindeer Came to Alaska 65 

XII. White Sox Learns His Last Lesson. . . 71 


v 











INTRODUCTION 


This story will be read by boys and girls in 
Alaska who know their fathers’ herds of reindeer 
“like a book,” or better than a book; and it will 
be read by other boys and girls who never saw a 
reindeer and think of them only as strange and 
wonderful creatures that live among the snows in 
a far-off northern region. I hardly know whether 
we enjoy more hearing the story of our own do¬ 
mestic animals or the story of strange animals that 
we have never seen. So I can hardly guess whether 
this story will be read with more interest in Alaska 
or in Maine and Florida and California. But it 
will be read with lively interest wherever it may go. 

When I was Commissioner of Education at 
Washington, in the Department of the Interior, 
people often asked me how it happened that my 
office had anything to do with such a distant and 
unrelated activity as the reindeer industry. I told 
them that this was one of the finest examples of 
real education for real life with which I had ever 
had to do. I found the subject tremendously inter¬ 
esting.- Dr. Sheldon Jackson, who introduced do¬ 
mestic reindeer into Alaska, was then alive and was 
one of the most vigorous and adventurous and inter¬ 
esting members of my staff. Very soon Mr. Lopp, 
who was at that time a District Superintendent in 
Alaska, came on to Washington to arrange with the 
new Commissioner for the more complete organi- 
vii 


viii Introduction 

zation of the reindeer industry and for its further 
development. 

I found Mr. Lopp one of those rare men who 
think more than they talk. We very soon got 
together, became acquainted with each other, and 
settled down to the work that we had to do to¬ 
gether. I learned to appreciate his intimate knowl¬ 
edge of the reindeer business and its use in the 
making of better living conditions and a better life 
for those Alaskans who live in the reindeer country. 
I learned to value his personal devotion to the great 
work in which he was engaged. The friendship 
that grew up between us, through our official rela¬ 
tions, is one which I have greatly prized, from that 
time down to the present day; and accordingly I 
have welcomed this story of his most warmly, and 
I am sure it will be welcomed by a wide circle of 

readers. Elmer Ellsworth Brown 


New York University 


WHITE SOX 




“Not a thing could he see except his mother.” 


I 

Astray from the Herd 

White Sox opened his eyes, winked them several 
times, and looked about him. Not a thing could 
he see except his mother. She was resting on a 
bed of moss close beside him, wide awake, chewing 
her cud. He knew he had not slept very long be¬ 
cause it was still daylight. But the daylight was 
gray and damp, for the sides and roof of his bed¬ 
room were of fog, — fog so thick that it walled 
them in completely. 

“Mother,” he said anxiously, “do you think we 
shall ever find our way back to the big herd?” 

Mother Reindeer looked at him for a moment 








2 


White Sox 


without speaking, and went on grinding the wad 
of food in her mouth — chew, chew, chew. Then 
she turned her head this way and that, as if listen¬ 
ing for any sound that might be heard. 

“I’m beginning to think the whole world is made 
of fog,” complained White Sox. “We’ve been 
wandering about in it for two days — here and 
there, up and down — without so much as scent¬ 
ing another reindeer or hearing a sound. Mother, 
I’m getting dreadfully worried.” 

Mother Reindeer looked at him again. Her 
kind eyes were full of patience. She did not seem 
a bit worried about things like fog or being lost. 

White Sox thought they had gone straying in 
search of better moss fields and had become sepa¬ 
rated from the herd by the heavy mist. He never 
dreamed that his mother was taking him to school. 
No, indeed! 

“Mother,” he said, speaking a little louder, 
“what if we have been going farther away all the 
time and never find our way back to the big herd 
on the sea beach?” 

Mother Reindeer swallowed her cud. “Non¬ 
sense!” she answered. “When the fog lifts we 
shall be able to see where we are. We have better 
moss here than down on the sea beach, and no 
mosquitoes to bother us. There’s nothing to worry 
about.” 

“But, mother! it is very lonesome here. There 
isn’t a fox or a ptarmigan, not even an owl or a 
mouse,” White Sox complained. 


Astray from the Herd 3 

Then he rose and stretched himself. He was 
five months old, and he had never been away from 
the sea beach before. He tried to look through 
the fog — this way and that way — but he was 
afraid of losing sight of his mother. He did not go 
more than a couple of yards from her. 

“This awful stillness makes me unhappy,” he 
said. “I want to hear the sound of the cowbells, the 
yelps of the collies, and the shouts of the herders.” 

Mother Reindeer watched him with kindly eyes. 
She was very proud of White Sox. He was her 
fifteenth fawn, and the smartest, handsomest, and 
most graceful and agile in the big herd. 

He was very tall. His body was slender and well 
proportioned. His head was finely shaped and 
held very high; his horns were still in the velvet, 
and they were beautiful. His hair was of the dark¬ 
est shade of brown — all except his legs, which, 
from the hoofs to the knees, were as white and 
smooth as the skin of a winter weasel, and his nose, 
which looked as if it had been dipped halfway to 
his eyes into a pail of milk. 

Yes, indeed! Mother Reindeer had good reason 
to be proud of White Sox. He was strong as well 
as handsome; only a few hours after he was born 
he had been able to run with the other fawns and 
take care of himself. Now, at five months, he 
could outrun them all. And, strange as it may 
appear, all the other mothers in the big herd ad¬ 
mitted that there was not another fawn to compare 
with White Sox. 


4 


White Sox 


Just at that moment, while Mother Reindeer 
was thinking about these things, a gentle breeze 



“White Sox turned his nose in the same direction as hers, 
and sniffed, and sniffed, and sniffed.” 


from the northwest blew in her direction and kissed 
the tip of her nose. She sprang quickly to her feet. 
She stretched her graceful neck, lifted her upper lip 
slightly, and sniffed the breeze. 

“What is it?” White Sox asked quickly. 
“Mother, do you scent the big herd?” 

Mother Reindeer was nodding her head upward 
and downward. White Sox turned his nose in the 
same direction as hers, and sniffed, and sniffed, 
and sniffed. 

“Come!” cried Mother Reindeer. “Let’s be 
off!” 

Away they went — right through the thick fog, 
just as if it had not been there at all. After they 
had gone a few miles, the heavy mist began to lift. 




Astray from the Herd 5 

They could see a little farther, then still farther, 
and at last, on a low ridge straight ahead of them, 
White Sox caught sight of moving forms. 

“Mother! Look, look! It’s the big herd!” he 
shouted joyfully. 

He was about to rush toward them, when his 
mother spoke. 

“Not so fast, my son,” she said. “That is a 
herd of caribou. They are our wild cousins.” 

White Sox was very much surprised. “Our wild 
cousins?” he repeated slowly. Then he became 
greatly excited. “Oh, mother, I’m so glad! I’ve 
always wanted to see our wild cousins. How lucky 
we are! Come, let’s hurry!” 

“No, no, my son! You have many lessons to 
learn,” she said kindly. “Our wild cousins do not 
know we are coming to visit them. They have not 
scented us, because the wind is blowing from them 
to us. They will be startled when they see us. We 
must move very slowly. If we rush toward them, 
they will run away.” 

As White Sox and his mother moved toward 
the herd of white caribou, they left the last of the 
fog behind and could see their cousins quite 
plainly. 

“They look exactly like us,” said White Sox, 
after watching them for a little while. 

“ Look again, my son,” said Mother Reindeer. 

But at that moment the caribou caught sight 
of the strangers. They quickly bunched together, 
with heads erect, and watched them. 


6 White Sox 

Mother Reindeer paused. White Sox stopped 
also. 

“No, mother, I was wrong,” he said. “I can 
see our cousins plainer now. Their bodies are 
more slender than those of the reindeer in our 
herd. Their legs and necks are longer. They hold 
their heads higher. There are no spotted or white 
ones among them.” 

“Very true,” said Mother Reindeer. She liked 
to have White Sox find out things for himself. 
“The spotted and white ones are found only in 
the herds that live with man and serve him. 
Come, we will go to our wild cousins now. They 
are frightened. Walk very slowly, and pay atten¬ 
tion to what I tell you.” 



“The caribou stood at attention as White Sox and his 
mother came up to them.” 


II 

A Taste of Wild Life 

The caribou stood at attention as White Sox 
and his mother came up to them. To White 
Sox they seemed very shy and nervous, but he 
supposed that was because they had not been 
expecting company. 

“Mother,” he whispered, “why do they all 
stare at me so?” 

“You are the first white-legged and white-nosed 
fawn they have ever seen,” she told him. Then 
she introduced him to them all. 

White Sox held his head as high as theirs, but 
he behaved very nicely while they admired his 

7 











8 


White Sox 


beautiful markings. While his mother was greet¬ 
ing the older cousins, the younger ones gathered 
about him and invited him to join in their play. 
But White Sox was not in a playful mood. He 
was curious to learn more about these strange 
cousins; so he went back to his mother. 

“Have you been here before, mother? ” he 
asked. “Our wild cousins seem to know you 
quite well.” 

“Yes, my son. I have often made visits to the 
caribou at this time of the year,” Mother Rein¬ 
deer said. “But run away and eat your supper 
with the fawns. Keep your eyes and ears open, 
and learn all you can of their life and habits.” 

White Sox was very happy. This new world 
seemed a beautiful place to him. From the top 
of the ridge he could see for a long distance in 
every direction. Life was not a bit lonesome now. 
He skipped and frisked with the fawns, and ate 
his supper of moss with them in a tiny hollow 
just below the ridge where the big caribou were 
eating. Oh, it was the most delicious moss he 
had ever tasted! When sleeping time came, he 
went back to his mother, too tired and drowsy 
to say a word. 

But do you suppose the wild caribou were going 
to allow the lazy fellow to sleep in peace? Not 
a bit of it! Four times during the night the herd 
changed its camping ground. White Sox was 
awakened out of a lovely nap each time in order 
to follow them. 


A 'Taste of W ild Life 9 

But next day — well, he had forgotten this; 
and it was just as Mother Reindeer had expected 
it would be. The fawns had told him wonderful 
stories about their wild life. The newness and 
excitement of it had so charmed him that the 
foolish fellow wanted to stay with his wild cousins 
forever and ever. 

Mother Reindeer was preparing for her after¬ 
noon nap. She had made herself comfortable on 
a nice soft bed of moss where she could see up 
the ridge and down the ridge, when White Sox 
came to her, all out of breath. He dropped down 
on the bed beside her without so much as asking 
her leave. 

“Mother, I’ve changed my mind,” he said, pant¬ 
ing. “I don’t want to go back to the big herd.” 

Mother Reindeer did not say a word. She 
wanted to know how much he had learned, and 
so she kept quiet till he had breath enough to 
tell her. She did not have to wait very long. 

“I like this wild life, mother,” he said. “Our 
cousins are free to come and go as they please. 
They eat on the mossy ranges in winter and on 
the grassy slopes in summer. They have sorrels 
and mushrooms, foliage of shrubs, and all kinds 
of dainties. The fawns are never robbed of their 
mothers’ milk. They are never roped and thrown 
to the ground by cruel herders. They don’t 
have their ears cut and their horns torn off.” 

White Sox was all out of breath again because 
he had talked so fast. He was quite excited, too. 


White Sox 


i o 

“I’ve been ihinking of my Cousin Bald Face,” 
he went on. “If he had lived with the caribou, 
he would have been alive today. I shall never 
forget his death.” 

“Bald Face did not heed his mother’s teaching, 
my son,” said Mother Reindeer, gently. 

“It wasn’t his fault, mother. I had just been 
roped and thrown to the ground. One of the 
herders had taken two V’s out of my right ear 
and another V out of my left ear — so you’d know 
I belonged to you, I suppose — when I saw the 
loop of the lasso close over Bald Face’s left horn, 
near the end. The poor little fellow was running 
his fastest. The herder braced himself and held 
the lasso tight. My cousin’s horn was pulled off. 
Oh, it was horrible! A piece of Bald Face’s 
skull the size of my ear was torn off with the 
root of the horn, leaving his brain bare.” 

“The herder was a new one,” said Mother 
Reindeer. “He had not learned his business. 
He will never injure another reindeer in that way. 
We must forgive him and try to forget it.” 

“Mother, I can’t forget it,” cried White Sox. 
“These wild cousins of ours can look forward to 
a long life of freedom and safety. They are not 
the slaves of herders and dogs. I want to stay 
with them.” 

“You are very young, my son. You have 
much to learn,” said his mother. 

“But I know what will happen to me if I stay 
with the big herd,” he said. “I’ll have to draw 


11 


A ' Taste of Wild Life 

heavy sled loads in winter and carry tiresome 
packs in summer, if I am not killed by the butch¬ 
er’s knife when I am two years old. In that 
case the herders will eat my flesh and make 
clothing out of my hide. The skin of my white 
legs will be used for fancy boots for some herder.” 

Mother Reindeer nodded her head upward and 
downward. She knew the ways of the big herd 
and had seen these things happen many times. 
She knew that if her beautiful White Sox was in¬ 
tended for a sled deer, he would first have to be 
halter-broken. A herder would rope him and tie 
him to a piece of tundra surface that was higher 
than the rest of the tundra, called a “nigger- 
head.” Then would follow the tedious work of 
breaking him to harness. He 
would be a beast of burden in 
winter as long as his back-fat 
lasted. Back-fat is the fat that 
collects on a reindeer’s back in 
summer, when there are green 
grass and shrubbery to eat. 

Reindeer moss alone does not 
give the reindeer strength 
enough for much hard work. 

If White Sox was broken to 
harness, Mother R eindeer 
thought it quite likely that he 
would be selected by the mail 
carrier for that terrible jour¬ 
ney of five hundred miles to 



A herder. 


White Sox 


I 2 



“This wonderful fawn of hers might escape the butcher’s 
knife and the herder’s harness and be kept for a leader.” 


Kotzebue Sound. But she had reason to believe 
that, because of his perfect markings, this wonderful 
fawn of hers might escape the butcher’s knife and 
the herder’s harness and be kept for a leader of the 
big herd. It was because she thought this that she 
had brought him with her on a visit to the caribou. 

“Mother,” began White Sox, after thinking 
for a little while, “have you forgotten what Uncle 
Slim told us just before we became separated from 
the big herd?” 

“No, indeed! But run away and play with the 
fawns now,” she said. “Watch them carefully. 
You have not learned your lesson yet.” 

Mother Reindeer had intended to take a nap, 








A Taste of Wild Life 13 

but she had many things to think of after White 
Sox left her. Uncle Slim had told them that 
probably the big herd would be pastured on the 
ice-coated sea beach during the coming winter. 
This meant that the sled deer would grow very 
thin again. The herders liked to pasture the herd 
there so that they could live in their old sod houses 
and be near the big village at Point Barrow. 

Lack of moss would not be the only drawback; 
there was also the terror of the Eskimo dogs. 
Slim’s brother had been crippled by a malamute 
dog, at Kivalina, when hauling mail on the Bar- 
row-Kotzebue route. Last December, Slim and five 
other reindeer had been staked out for five nights 
near Point Barrow village. They were exposed 
to a fierce northeast wind while the drivers were 
enjoying themselves in the village, where feasting 
and dancing were going cjn. On the fifth night 
the wind had changed to the northwest, and the 
reindeer had been scented by hungry village dogs. 
After a desperate struggle. Slim and the other 
reindeer had broken their tethers and had outrun 
the dogs. They had run miles and miles back to 
the big herd, and so had saved their lives. 

It was not all joy in the big herd. Mother 
Reindeer knew that very well. Many a time she 
too had been tempted to stay with her caribou 
cousins and adopt their free life. But always 
something had happened to make her change her 
mind. She felt sure it would be the same way 
with White Sox. 



White Sox Learns Many Things 

When White Sox and the fawns returned from 
the brook where the dwarf willows grew, he was 
full of a new subject that he could not understand, 
and of course he wanted his mother to explain it. 

“Mother,” he said, “the water in the brook 
was very clear this morning. When I bent my 
head to take a drink, I saw the picture of my 
antlers. They are not so big and strong as those 
of the caribou fawns. There is one little fellow 
here — much younger than I — whose upright 
branches are longer than mine .” 1 

1 The October antlers of the barren-ground caribou fawns of the in¬ 
terior of Alaska are shorter than those of the fawns of reindeer. Many 
H 













White Sox Learns Many Things 15 

“Very likely he’ll need his horns more than you 
will,” said Mother Reindeer. 

“Not if I become a caribou, mother; and I do 
so want to stay here and have a good time all my 
life,” pleaded White Sox. Then he looked at 
her curiously and said, “Mother, the caribou all 
seem to have better antlers than the reindeer. 
You are like the caribou; your coat is of the same 
color when you stand in the deep moss and hide 
your white ankles. But yom antlers — ” 

“Well, what’s the matter- with them?” she 
asked, when her son paused. 

“I don’t know, mother,” he answered. “Some¬ 
thing seems to be wrong with them. You have 
twenty-two points still covered with velvet, but 
the points are soft. They curve inward. I don’t 
think they would be of much use in a fight.” 

“Neither do I,” said Mother Reindeer, “but 
I am not expecting to get into a fight. I lost a 
set of beautiful antlers when you were born. 
Mothers usually lose their horns at such times. 
The big herd was kept on the shores of a lagoon 
near the beach while my new set was growing. 
Mosquitoes were very thick at that place. I had 
to keep shaking my head from side to side to beat 
off the pests. That constant striking of my grow¬ 
ing horns caused them to curve inward at the ends.” 

“The leader of the caribou has a fine set of 
antlers,” White Sox told her. “I counted forty- 

of them are stubs only 4 or 5 inches long. Those of the reindeer fawns 
are from 8 to 14 inches in length. 


i6 


White Sox 


seven points, all peeled and sharpened for service. 
Will mine ever be like his, mother?” 

“Don’t worry, my son,” said Mother Reindeer, 
kindly. “You’ll grow a new set of antlers each 
year. I’ve grown and cast fifteen sets. No two 
of them were alike.” 

Mother Reindeer knew that the size and shape 
of antlers and the number of their points all de¬ 
pended on the summer range. If she and White 
Sox were to adopt the wild life of the caribou, 
their antlers would be as large and strong as 
those of their wild cousins. But she was too wise 
to tell this to her son before he had learned his 
first lessons. 

Away he skipped. If he could not match the 
caribou fawns in antlers, he could equal them in 
fleetness. My, how he could run! Mother Rein¬ 
deer watched him now, and she thought that his 
white stockings looked for all the world like a 
streak of snow above the moss. She knew, too, 
that his cousins envied him those white stock¬ 
ings, and she hoped that he would have sense 
enough not to become vain of them. 

When the second night came, White Sox was very 
tired and sleepy. But his wild cousins would not 
let him rest in peace. Just about midnight they 
decided to move to the next ridge. They were no 
sooner comfortably settled there than the leader 
ordered them all to another place. When day¬ 
light came, White Sox complained to his mother 
about this frequent moving. 


White Sox Learns Many "Things 17 

“Mother, do our wild cousins never rest and 
sleep?” he asked. “I’ve lost more sleep these 
two nights than during all the past month. And 
tell me, please, mother, why do they eat the 
poor, short dry moss on the top of the ridges 
and knob hills, when there is much better grazing 
in the valleys?” 

But Mother Reindeer answered only with a 
shake of her wise head. She knew perfectly well 
that White Sox might forget the things she told 
him, but he would always remember the things 
he found out for himself. 

While White Sox waited for her to speak, he 
saw her turn her head to the right, then to the 
left, just as the caribou were always doing — 
looking for trouble. 

“Mother, you’ve caught their nervous habit,” 
he said. “It’s the only thing about our cousins 
that I don’t like. Well, if I can’t get enough sleep 
here, I’m surely going to have enough to eat. 
I’m not going to punish myself by adopting fool¬ 
ish caribou habits. There’ll be some good moss in 
that little valley down there. I’m going to have 
it for my breakfast.” 

Away he went. Mother Reindeer followed him 
quickly. Sure enough, as they crossed a patch 
where dwarf willows grew they came upon some 
of the finest moss. Um! it made their mouths 
water. But do you think White Sox had that 
moss for his breakfast? No, indeed! 

Mother Reindeer shook her head. “You come 


18 


White Sox 


right up to this other knoll at once,” she ordered, 
sternly. “The. restless habits of your wild cousins 
are not foolish styles, as you’ll soon find out. 
Come right along, now, and pay attention to 
what I say. Your father once called my ear but¬ 
tons a ‘foolish female style,’ but he changed his 
mind about it when the herders clamped but¬ 
tons on his own ears.” 

White Sox followed his mother up the slope to 
the little knoll. He did not like it one bit, but 
he dared not disobey her. They had barely 
reached the high ground when they heard the 
frightened squawkings of a flock of ptarmigan, 
which rose like a cloud out of another patch of 
low arctic willows a few hundred yards from the 
spot where they had crossed the little valley. 

“Look, look!” exclaimed White Sox, becoming 
excited. “I never saw so many ptarmigan before. 
I believe there are as many as there are reindeer 
in our big herd.” 

But Mother Reindeer was looking this way and 
that, this way and that, looking and listening, 
just as the caribou did. 

“Mother!” shouted White Sox, suddenly, “look 
at our wild cousins on that other ridge! See how 
scared they are! Ptarmigan can’t hurt them.” 

“Keep quiet, my son!” commanded his mother. 
“That squawking of the ptarmigan is a danger 
signal. There’s a hungry fox among the willows 
who wanted to make his breakfast off a fat 
ptarmigan, or else it is —” 


White Sox Learns Many "Things 19 



“The very next instant a big black wolf came out of the 
willows.” 


“What, mother?” 

White Sox had crept close to her side; but he 
also was looking this way and that, this way and 
that. 

“It may be a wolf,” said Mother Reindeer. 

“A wolf!” repeated White Sox, in a whisper. 

“If it were a herder looking for us, we should 
see his head and shoulders above the willows. 
It must be that a wolf has scented us from afar.” 

Mother Reindeer was right. But it was not 
one wolf. Hardly had she said the words when 
three big gray wolves left the willows by a small 
ravine that ended near the herd of frightened 
caribou. 








20 


White Sox 


But the caribou could not see the wolves. 
White Sox forgot everything except the fact that 
his cousins were in danger. He must warn them 
instantly. 

Before his mother could stop him, he had 
given out three piercing bleats, “He-awk! he-awk! 
he-awk ! 99 

The very next instant a big black wolf came 
out of the willows. It was followed by a gray one. 
They started up the slope toward him and his 
mother. 



At her heels went White Sox, terribly scared.” 


IV 

A Race for Life 

“There! You’ve done it!” exclaimed Mother 
Reindeer. “Come on! Keep right in my tracks 
and don’t turn your head to the right or left. 
Do exactly as I do!” 

Down the mossy slope she started at her swift¬ 
est speed. At her heels went White Sox, terribly 
scared, and thankful that he could run so fast. 

For a long time he thought of nothing but 
getting away from the fierce wolves. Then he 
remembered his cousins. He wondered if they had 
heard his signal, if they too were running for 
their lives. 


21 








White Sox 


22 

Away off — some three miles ahead — Mother 
Reindeer had spied a lake, shaped like an hour¬ 
glass. She was making for this lake as fast as 
her feet could carry her. Not once did she look 
back to see where the wolves were. 

To White Sox the lake looked like two patches 
of water connected by a narrow neck. He was 
thinking as he ran, wondering if his mother would 
take him into one of these pieces of water, and if 
the wolves would keep them there until the water 
froze over. He had been in icy water once. 
Some Eskimo dogs had chased him and his uncle 
into the Arctic Ocean in July, and had kept them 
there until a herder came and drove the dogs 
away. His uncle had told him that lakes and 
streams would soon begin to freeze; so he knew. 

White Sox forgot his mother’s command and 
looked back. He had never heard of Lot’s wife 
and the pillar of salt. My! How his heart beat 
when he saw the two wolves behind him! He 
was just going to urge his mother to greater 
speed, when his attention was called to something 
else. 

They were entering a grassy bog. Mother 
Reindeer was slowing down to a trot and heading 
toward the narrow neck between the two lakes. 

At first White Sox was too much surprised to 
speak. ‘‘It looks as if it weren’t very deep, 
mother,” he called warningly. “Let’s make for 
the deepest water. Uncle Slim told me that wolves 
can’t swim very well in deep water.” 


A Race for Rife 23 

His uncle had also told him that if wolves or 
dogs followed them into deep water, reindeer could 
strike out with their hoofs and drown their 
enemies. But White Sox was too much out of 
breath to explain all that to his mother just at 
the moment. 

But, bless your heart! Old Mother Reindeer 
knew all those things, and much more. 

“Save your breath, White Sox!” she said 
sternly. “Follow me closely and do exactly as 
I do.” 

Then, instead of hurrying, she went slower and 
slower. 

White Sox was too much scared to think. He 
followed right in his mother’s tracks, getting as 
close to her as he could, for he could hear the 
whining yips of the wolves behind him. 

They had now reached the shore of the narrow 
neck between the lakes. Instead of jumping in 
and dashing across, Mother Reindeer began to 
walk, slowly and very carefully. 

“Huh! huh! huh!” 

It was the hard breathing of the fierce wolves 
close behind White Sox. He was terribly afraid 
their fangs would be nipping his hind legs in about 
a minute. He made up his mind to bound past 
his mother and reach the farther shore ahead of 
her. 

But, oh my! It was lucky he did not. 

That narrow neck was a slough. The water in 
it was not water at all. The minute he put his 


24 


White Sox 


foot in that thick, gummy, smelly oil, White Sox 
knew why his mother had slowed down. It 
reached up to his mother’s knees, and was so 
sticky that he could hardly wade through it. 
He followed her meekly, with slow and careful 
steps. 

The slough was about twelve yards across . 1 
Halfway over, White Sox looked back again. 
The two wolves had just reached the brink of 
the slough. 

In they plunged, together, in too great a hurry 
to notice the resinous substance. But two jumps 
were enough for them. The oil splashed over 
their sides and backs. Their great tails became 
heavy with it, so heavy that they could hardly 
lift them. They turned slowly and waddled back to 
the shore in a terrible mess. There was no break¬ 
fast of reindeer meat for them that morning. 

Mother Reindeer and White Sox reached the 
farther shore and stepped out of the slough. 
They stamped their feet to shake off the sticky 
stuff, but they couldn’t get rid of it. 

Poor White Sox! His beautiful stockings were 
dyed a rich black color. 

“We are like the caribou now, mother,” he 
said sorrowfully. 

“Never mind. It will come off when we shed 
our hair next July,” Mother Reindeer told him. 

1 These oil lakes were discovered near the Arctic coast east of Point 
Barrow a few years ago. In the fall of 1921 they were staked by two 
oil companies. 


2 5 


A Race for Rife 



“There were no lame ones and no old ones. Now I know 
the reason. The wolves caught and ate them.” 




















26 


White Sox 


White Sox was so thankful at having escaped 
the wolves that he did not waste much time in 
regrets. He had learned a lesson that morning 
that he would never forget. 

“Mother, you are the most wonderful reindeer 
in all the world,” he said proudly. “But why 
didn’t you tell me of your plan of escape?” 

“There was no time, my son. Besides, fawns 
learn best by seeing and doing.” 

“Would the wolves have gone into that shal¬ 
low oil slough if we had not held back until they 
almost caught us?” 

“Certainly not! The wolf is the greediest and 
most destructive of all our enemies,” Mother 
Reindeer said. “We can only defeat him when 
we outwit him and lead him into a trap.” 

“I see!” cried White Sox. “If you had not 
tempted them to follow us across the sticky 
slough, they would have gone around one of the 
lakes and would still be chasing us. They cannot 
chase us now; their coats are too heavy. Look 
at them, mother! They waddle like the porcu¬ 
pines in the timbered country that Uncle Slim told 
us about. Where is the timbered country?” 

“It’s about ten days’ journey south of here,” 
Mother Reindeer told him. Then she asked him 
if he still wished to live with the wild caribou. 

“No, no, mother! There were no lame ones 
and no old ones among our wild cousins. I won¬ 
dered about it yesterday, but now I know the 
reason. The wolves caught and ate them.” 


A Race for Life 27 

“Now do you know,” Mother Reindeer asked 
him, “why our wild cousins are always looking 
this way and that?” 

“Yes,” White Sox answered, “I know now. 
It’s the wolves. They are always on the lookout 
for wolves. They dare not sleep at night for 
fear of these enemies. They dare not even graze 
in the willow valleys where the best moss grows. 
They must have strong, sharp antlers with which 
to protect themselves. I understand it all now, 
mother. Our wild cousins must ever be on the 
watch for these sneaking wolves. No, mother! 
No wild caribou life for me! Let us go back to 
the tame life of the big herd.” 



“Mother Reindeer changed her course so that they almost 
faced the wind.” 


V 

White Sox Travels through a Blizzard 

White Sox did not ask if his mother knew the 
way back to the big herd. He had learned his 
lesson well. Besides, Mother Reindeer had told 
him that it was not the first time she had visited 
the caribou. When she said, “Come, let us be 
off!” he was quite ready to follow without asking 
foolish questions. 

Away they went at a brisk trot. Both were 
glad to be going home. Presently Mother Rein¬ 
deer said, “If all goes well, we should reach the 
big herd by tomorrow night. I have a story to 
tell you before we get there. All reindeer mothers 
tell this story to their fawns.” 

28 





!Traveling through a Blizzard 29 

Mother Reindeer would have told this story to 
White Sox long ago, but she had wanted him to 
meet his wild cousins first. White Sox was dif¬ 
ferent from the other fawns, and — well, you’ll un¬ 
derstand after you have heard the story. 

They had traveled about ten miles when a 
northwest breeze sprang up. The air soon became 
full of flying snow. Mother Reindeer changed her 
course so that they almost faced the wind. It 
was a terrible wind. White Sox had never faced 
a blizzard before. He kept close in on his 
mother’s side, and he snuggled his head to her 
shoulder. In this way they trotted along at 
about six miles an hour. 

The air became colder and colder. Soon the 
snow was like the fog — it walled them in as they 
ran. Mother Reindeer did not slacken her speed, 
and White Sox felt quite sure it was all right. 
But after they had gone about twenty-four miles, 
he began to feel very tired and hungry. 

“Please let us stop and eat a bit of moss,” 
he begged. “We didn’t finish our breakfast, 
mother. I want to rest awhile.” 

“Not yet, my son,” Mother Reindeer said. 
“A little farther on, when we reach the other 
side of that ridge, we shall be out of the storm 
zone. Then we will rest and eat.” 

White Sox thought those last three miles were 
the longest he had ever run in his life. He had 
never, never been quite so hungry. But on they 
went, and at last the ridge was crossed. There was 


White Sox 


3 ° 

nice weather then. And right there on the slope, 
under three inches of freshly fallen snow, was a 
bed of moss. Um! It was the nicest moss White 
Sox had ever tasted. 

“Is it because I am so hungry, or because of 
the snow, that this moss is so good?” he asked 
his mother. 

“Both, my son,” she replied. “In summer, 
moss is either too dry or too wet. We eat a 
little of it, but we like the grass and foliage better. 
These produce our back-fat, which we must have 
to help us through the winter. Snow gives the 
moss the right amount of moisture. We live on 
it through the long winter, but every moon we 
lose some of our back-fat. We are always glad 
when the snow goes and the grass comes.” 

“Mother, what is the starvation moon?” 
White Sox asked, after they had eaten awhile in 
silence. “I have heard Uncle Slim speak of it.” 

“That is a spring moon,” said Mother Rein¬ 
deer, and then she explained all about it. “When 
the herd is kept too near the sea beach and the 
snow is deep and hard, reindeer become very poor 
and weak. They have to dig through the snow 
for all their meals, and there isn’t much to eat 
after all their digging. Some reindeer mothers 
are so poor when their fawns come that until 
the grass grows they don’t have milk enough for 
them. There was a starvation moon after your 
sister was born, and consequently her growth 
was stunted. Luckily for you, last winter and 


1 Traveling through a Blizzard 3 1 



“‘Your mother was in good condition, and you grew fast and 
strong.’” 

spring were what is called ‘open.’ The herders 
moved the herd back a day’s journey each moon. 
Your mother was in good condition and had 
plenty of milk. You grew fast and strong.” 

White Sox nibbled awhile; then he thought of 
something else that he wanted to know. 

“Mother, why did we change our course and 
go almost directly against the wind when we were 
traveling through that blizzard?” he asked. 

“That was to protect ourselves from the driv¬ 
ing blast and from wolves,” said Mother Reindeer. 
“Don’t you know that our hair slants backward 
like the feathers of a duck? A driving wind that 
strikes us from behind or on the side gets under 
our hair and chills us.” 










White Sox 


3 2 

“When we face the wind we can scent wolves 
and Eskimo dogs ahead of us. But then wolves 
behind us can scent us, can’t they, mother?” 

“Yes, my son; but no wolf or dog can face 
a blizzard like the snowstorm we passed through 
today and overtake a reindeer or a caribou. 
Our enemies like to scent us, or see us, and then 
sneak up as they tried to do this morning. Our 
wild cousins are in the greatest danger when they 
are resting.” 

“Besting!” exclaimed White Sox. “Why, 
mother, our poor cousins don’t know what rest 
is! But tell me, please, when the snowflakes 
became hard sleet today, didn’t they hurt your 
eyes?” 

“No, my son. I held my head down in such 
a way that one of my branches sheltered my left 
eye most of the time. My right eye was pro¬ 
tected by the broad shovel prong over my nose. 
I could close my left eye to rest it while running. 
Even when we have no horns, we can close one 
eye and turn our head so as to protect the other. 
Until you have learned this trick, you must al¬ 
ways crowd in on the lee side of a big reindeer 
for protection when in a blizzard.” 

“I’ll remember that, mother. But I’m very 
sleepy now. May I rest awhile?” 

“Yes. We’ll go to the top of that little knoll 
over yonder. You may sleep while I am chewing 
my cud.” 

When they had reached the place, Mother 


Traveling through a Blizzard 33 

Reindeer selected a nice bed of moss covered with 
a clean sheet of freshly fallen snow. They needed 
no blankets other than their thick, warm coats. 
In about two minutes White Sox was fast asleep. 





“And under the bright arctic moon, there on the very top of 
the continent, she told him the story.” 


VI 

Under the Arctic Moon 

If you wish to know where White Sox was sleep¬ 
ing, you must get your geography and turn to 
the map of Alaska. Now find the seventy-first 
parallel. North of that you will notice a little 
point of land jutting out into the Arctic Ocean, 
called Point Barrow. Just southwest of that 
point is Barrow, the village to which the big herd 
belonged. 

The little knoll where White Sox was sleeping 
was on the seventy-first parallel, away up at the 
top of the North American continent. The 
freshly fallen snow stretched eastward and west- 
34 








Under the Arctic Moon 35 

ward, northward and southward, from this little 
knoll; in fact, it covered all the land from the 
seventieth parallel to the Arctic Ocean. But 
White Sox knew nothing about parallels and such 
things. To him that arctic land was the whole 
world. 

Mother Reindeer knew a lot more than that. 
She was seventeen years old. She had seen and 
heard so much that she was very wise. 

When White Sox waked from his nap, he 
thought it was daylight. The brightness dazzled 
him. He winked his eyes and looked about him. 
A great big arctic moon was shining down upon 
him. What a beautiful moon it was! And how 
the snow glistened and shone! He winked his 
eyes several times \ then he looked for his mother. 

She was pawing through the snow near him to 
get moss for her midnight lunch. 

ATother, this is the whitest world I ve ever 
seen,” he said. Then he sprang up and began to 
dig moss for himself, for he was hungry again. 

A light breeze was blowing from the north¬ 
west, and the air was much colder. White Sox 
rubbed his face against his mother’s shoulder to 
brush the frost from his eyes and nose. Then he 
took a mouthful of moss and looked about him. 

There was not a living thing to be seen. Yes, 
there was! A great arctic owl was perched on 
a little mound not very far away. 

“Mother, are owls as wise as they look?” 
White Sox asked. He took another bite of moss. 


3 6 


White Sox 



“‘He swoops down to catch his own supper and meets his 
finish in the sharp claws and teeth of the lynx.’” 


“No, not always,” Mother Reindeer answered, 
“but sometimes they are cunning enough to out¬ 
wit sleepy reindeer mothers and kill their new¬ 
born fawns.” 

“Do the owls ever get caught by our other 
enemies?” 

“Sometimes. Among our lesser enemies the 
lynx is said to be wiser than the wisest owl. 
the lynx eats rabbits, mice, and birds. He 
studies the habits of these creatures. He knows 
that the owl is always watching to swoop down 
on some helpless field mouse. My own mother 
told me that when a lynx is hungry for owl meat, 
he will burrow in well-packed snow, leaving a 







Under the Arctic Moon 


37 

small opening in the crust about the size of your 
tail. He then lies on his back in his snow cave 
and pokes his short bobtail through the roof and 
wags it to and fro. When the owl sees it, he 
thinks it is a field mouse. He swoops down to 
catch his own supper and meets his finish in the 
sharp claws and teeth of the lynx.” 

“The lynx are more cunning than the wolves. 
Do you fear them as much, mother?” 

“No, my son. When they attack our kind, it 
is usually a weak fawn or an injured reindeer.” 

“Mother, that little caribou cousin of mine — 
the fawn with the big antlers — couldn’t run very 
fast. Do you think the wolves would catch him?” 
White Sox now asked. 

“It’s quite likely they would,” said Mother 
Reindeer. “The weaklings always go first to 
feed our enemies, and their going helps to save 
the strong ones. A wild caribou can never hope 
to die a natural death. Our wild cousins know 
that at some time or other they must be caught 
and eaten by their enemies. Their freedom, which 
appeared so attractive to you, is dangerous and 
deprives them of protection. Even when some of 
their number are always on watch, prowling ene¬ 
mies will take them by surprise, as they did 
yesterday.” 

“Mother,” said White Sox, thoughtfully, “know¬ 
ing this, why didn’t one of us stand watch while 
the other slept?” 

“One of us did,” she answered. “I slept the 


2 8 White Sox 

‘caribou sleep,’ half a minute on and half a minute 
off, while you slept the reindeer sleep.” 

White Sox was greatly surprised when he heard 
this. He felt that he had been very thoughtless 
and selfish. “You should have let me do‘my 
share of watching,” he said. 

“You were too tired, my son,” his mother 
told him. “Besides, you knew nothing about the 
ways of caribou and wolves before we came on 
this visit to our cousins. In the big herd the rein¬ 
deer sleep long and sound; they have no fear of 
enemies. The Eskimo herders and the collies 
watch over them. Cowbells frighten the wolves 
and scare them away.” 

“Yes, mother, I understand that now. Rem- 
deer life is much safer than caribou life, but — ’ 

“But what?” 

White Sox seemed to be puzzled about some¬ 
thing. He thought about it for a minute, and 
then he said, “Mother, you never said a word 
when the herders killed my two big brothers. 
Did you think it right?” 

Mother Reindeer did not speak, but she nodded 
her head upward and downward, very slowly. 

“They killed two of my uncles also,” con¬ 
tinued White Sox, “but they never touched my 
sisters or my aunts. And now I come to think 
of it, mother, it is always the brothers and uncles 
that are killed. Are we born to be eaten?” ^ 

Mother Reindeer looked very serious. It is 
time I told you the big story,” she said. After 


Under the Arctic Moon 39 

you have heard it you will understand many 
things that seem strange to you now. Come, if 
you’ve finished your meal. Lie here by my side. 
No wolves can surprise us on this knoll. The 
beautiful moon is our friend. I am going to tell 
you how the first wild caribou was tamed and 
became a reindeer.” 

After they had made themselves comfortable. 
Mother Reindeer said, “First I must tell you 
that it will be a white, world for seven moons. 
From now until we shed our coats next summer, 
you may be known in the big herd as ‘Black Sox ’!” 

Poor White Sox! He looked sadly at his dark 
stockings, which were almost as black as the 
feathers of a raven; but he answered thoughtfully: 
“I am thankful my nose is still white. But I am 
not worrying about my name and color. I want to 
hear the story of how the first caribou was tamed, 
mother.” 

This pleased Mother Reindeer very much. 
“Good, my son!” she said. “Now for the story!” 

And under the bright arctic moon, on the very 
top of the great American continent, she told 
him the story. 



VII 

Mother Reindeer’s Story of White Feet 

“Ever and ever so long ago, on a fine summer 
day, a great herd of wild caribou was browsing 
near the seashore,” said Mother Reindeer. “This 
shore was far away toward the setting sun, across 
the great piece of water. There were no reindeer 
at the time of which I am speaking. This herd of 
caribou was more than ten times as large as our 
own big herd. There were so many of them, and 
they were so strong, that they had grown care¬ 
less. 

“Wolves did not usually bother the caribou in 
summer. There had been no hunters chasing 


40 







The Story of White Feet 41 

them for a long time. The great herd felt quite 
safe. It was their custom to keep a few hundred 
of their swiftest runners on picket duty all around 
the herd, to watch for enemies. But, as I have 
just told you, they had grown careless. 

“In this great herd of wild caribou was a fawn 
with white legs and white nose. He was the 
first caribou that ever had any white markings. 
All the others were very proud of him. They 
named him ‘White Feet .” 5 

“Did I look like him, mother?” asked White 
Sox, who was much interested in the story. 

“Yes, indeed! You were exactly like him in 
every way, my son,” said Mother Reindeer, 
proudly. “The fame of this first marked fawn 
spread far and wide. Many other bands of cari¬ 
bou came to see him. They all agreed that he 
was born to be king of the caribou. So much at¬ 
tention caused his mother to be very careful to 
train him in the right way. He had many, many 
things to learn.” 

“Yes, mother. A fawn who is going to be a 
great leader must know more than the other rein¬ 
deer fawns,” said White Sox. 

Mother Reindeer was much pleased at the in¬ 
terest her son was taking in the story. “That 
is very true,” she said. “White Feet was very ob¬ 
serving and thoughtful. He became wise while he 
was a fawn. He remembered what his mother told 
him. He often thought about it and planned what 
he would do when he grew up to be the leader. 


4.2 White Sox 

“Now, as I told you before, this great herd of 
wild caribou felt a little too safe. One fine summer 
day, when they were grazing near the shore, a 
large band of hungry wolves scented them. These 
crafty enemies came nearer and nearer without 
the herd’s knowing anything about them. At 
last, when they thought they were close enough, 
out they rushed. The terrified herd of caribou 
stampeded pell-mell into the icy water of the 
Arctic Ocean.” 

“Oh!” gasped White Sox. “Did the wolves 
get many of them?” 

“Wait and listen,” said Mother Reindeer. 
“White Feet and six other young fawns who al¬ 
ways followed him had gone up on a hill to the 
right of the great herd. They were not caught 
in the stampede, but they were cut off from the 
herd. A large band of fierce wolves was between 
them and the caribou. All the fawns except young 
White Feet were very much frightened. They 
began to ‘mill,’ or run around in a circle. White 
Feet remembered what his mother had told him 
about wolves. He was only half your age, but 
he took command of the little band of fawns and 
led them down the other side of the hill, across 
a narrow valley, and then up the side of a high 
ridge. He planned to get over the summit and 
out of sight before any of the wolves began to 
look for stragglers. 

“When they reached the top of the ridge, 
they could see the herd swimming about in the 


Fhe Story of White Feet 43 

water. The many antlers looked like a great 
mass of brushwood afloat. And they could see 
the wolves pacing up and down along the shore, 
either too cowardly or too wise to follow the cari¬ 
bou into the water. 

“The fawns stood on the high ridge, their 
mouths wide open. Great drops of perspiration 
fell from their lolling tongues. Young White 
Feet was wondering how long the wolves would 
keep the caribou in the icy water, and how he 
could lead his little band back to their mothers. 
He looked all about him, this way and that, 
and what do you think he saw? 

“Three big gray wolves were creeping up the 
side of the ridge, coming straight toward him and 
the fawns.” 

“Oh!” cried White Sox, greatly excited. “What 
did he do, mother?” 

“He told the fawns to follow him and to do 
just as he did,” said Mother Reindeer. “He had 
seen a small bay farther along the beach. It 
was made by a long, narrow spit of land that curved 
like the main branch of my antlers. ‘Come on!’ 
he cried. ‘It’s a race for life to that little bay 
down yonder.’ 

“Then away he went, with the other six fawns 
at his heels. Down, down, down toward the bay 
they raced. When they were about halfway there. 
White Feet saw smoke ahead. It was coming 
from a skin tent that lay between them and 
the bay.” 


44 White Sox 



“ ‘ Then, just as the first wolf was about to seize the hindermost 
fawn, he and his little band swerved to one side and burst into 
the big tent.’ ” 


“Oh, a herder’s tent!” cried White Sox. 

“No, indeed!” said Mother Reindeer. “There 
were no herders in those days, my son. It was 
the tent of a hunter. White Feet didn’t know 
which was the more to be feared, a wolf or a 
hunter. Both were the enemies of the caribou. 
And the little band of fawns were depending on 
him to lead them to safety.” 

“I understand,” said White Sox. “A leader must 
decide things for himself, and do it quickly. He 
can’t ask his mother every time he faces a duty.” 

“Yes,” said Mother Reindeer, “and the three 
gray wolves forced White Feet to decide quickly 










The Story of White Feet 45 

this time. They were coming down the slope 
behind the fawns. White Feet knew that the 
wolves were gaining on them, but as he looked 
ahead, he saw that the tent flap was open. He 
felt quite sure that his little band could not reach 
the bay, and he had been told that wolves would 
avoid a hunter’s tent in daylight. But these 
beasts thought they were surely going to have a 
big feed of fawn meat. 

“White Feet shouted to his followers to turn 
and dash into the tent. Then, just as the first 
wolf was about to seize the hindermost fawn, he 
and his little band swerved to one side and burst 
into the big tent. 

“Whiz! whiz! whiz! 

“The native hunter, all unknown to the fawns 
and wolves, had been watching the race from be¬ 
hind the tent. Three gray wolves now lay on 
the ground outside, pinned fast by the hunter’s 
terrible arrows.” 

“Oh, mother, mother!” cried White Sox, who 
was trembling with excitement. “Did the hunter 
kill White Feet and his six fawns?” 

Mother Reindeer looked at her son for a 
moment in silence and then continued her story. 



“‘A woman and her three children squatted near the fire.’ 

VIII 

The First Human Friend 


“Inside the big tent,” Mother Reindeer went 
on, “a woman and her three children squatted 
near the fire. They were eating a freshly cooked 
duck. They were so taken by surprise when the 
little band of caribou fawns dashed in through 
their open tent flap that at first they could not 
speak or move. Then the mother sprang up and 
fastened the tent flap tight. 

“White Feet and his followers had come to a 
stop at the farther side of the tent. They stood 
bunched together, with heads erect. All but 
White Feet were shaking with fear. They had 
seen the woman close the tent flap. They knew 
46 









The First Human Friend 


47 

that they were prisoners now, and they thought 
that they had escaped one death only to meet 
another. Then they saw the tent flap open a little 
way. The hunter peeped in; then he opened it 
wider, slipped inside the tent, and closed the flap 
quickly. 

“White Feet noticed that the hunter carried 
his big bow in his hand. He noticed also that 
he and his family all wore clothes made of cari¬ 
bou skins. They spoke to each other in strange 
sounds such as the fawns had never before heard. 
They all appeared to be very much excited and 
pleased. They looked at the fawns, and the fawns 
looked at them. 

“Suddenly the bigger boy gave a loud cry 
and pointed at White Feet. The hunter and the 
others looked at White Feet, too. Then they 
talked in excited tones. 

“White Feet, of course, didn’t know what they 
were saying, but he felt quite sure that they were 
talking about his white markings. Oh, how he 
wished his mother had been with him! Then he 
remembered that a leader must not think of him¬ 
self when others depend on him. Here were the 
six poor little fawns scared half to death, and he 
had promised to take care of them. What should 
he do? 

“He looked at the bigger boy, and the bigger 
boy looked at him. There was something in the 
boy’s eyes that gave White Feet courage. He 
didn’t seem like an enemy. He stood near his 


48 White Sox 

father, but his head came only as high as the 
hunter’s elbow. 

“White Feet made up his mind to trust this 
boy. Then he did the boldest thing ever done by 
a caribou. He walked across the tent to where 
the bigger boy stood and rubbed his head against 
the boy’s arm.” 

“Oh!” gasped White Sox. “How brave he 
was!” 

“Yes,” said Mother Reindeer, “that little cari¬ 
bou fawn was the first of his kind to try to make 
friends with an enemy. Of course the boy was 
surprised. He touched White Feet on the head. 
He spoke kindly to him and patted his shoulder. 
All the others stopped talking and watched them. 

“The bigger boy- stooped down and stroked 
White Feet’s beautiful stockings. White Feet 
rubbed his head against the boy’s arm again and 
tried to tell him how much he wanted him for 
a friend. 

“The boy’s young sister wanted to touch the 
fawn’s pretty stockings. She was a little bit 
afraid. She moved close beside the bigger boy, 
put out her hand very carefully, and just touched 
the top of the nearest white stocking. Then she 
laughed, and the two boys laughed, and their 
mother laughed. And what do you think White 
Feet did? 

“He kissed that little girl. Yes, he did — right 
on the cheek. He licked her cheek with his warm 
tongue. 


1 The First Human Friend 49 

“The little girl wasn’t a bit afraid of him after 
that. She stroked his white stockings, talked baby 
talk to him, and then she put her arms about his 
neck and loved him. 

“White Feet felt pretty sure that the 
children would not let the hunter kill him — just 
then. But he had to think for Blackie — the other 
male fawn of his little band — and the five does. 
He told Blackie and the doe fawns to make friends 
with the other boy and his mother. At first they 
were too scared to move, but at last poor Blackie got 
courage enough to walk up to the younger boy and 
rub his head against his arm. This seemed to please 
the younger boy very much. Before long all the doe 
fawns had followed his example, and the human 
beings were laughing and talking kindly to them. 

“The hunter had been shaking his head, but now 
he nodded it upward and downward. White Feet 
felt sure that he was saying ‘yes' to what the 
children had been asking, and that none of the 
little band would be killed at once. White Feet 
watched the hunter very carefully, but he kept 
close to the bigger boy because the boy was his 
first friend. 

“After a little while the hunter made two small 
halters of sealskin rope. He put one over White 
Feet’s head and the other over Blackie’s. Then 
the bigger boy led White Feet out of the tent and 
on to the narrow spit. The younger boy led Blackie. 
The five doe fawns followed them, and so did the 
little girl and her mother and father. 


50 White Sox 



“‘Dainten and White Feet loved each other.’” 


“When they were all far out on the spit, the 
hunter stretched his fish net across the narrow 
neck of ground. White Feet and his band were 
now prisoners on the spit. They were very gla,d 
to be alive and safe from the wolves. They didn’t 
know how long the hunter would let them live, 
and oh! how they did want their mothers! But 
they were very hungry too, and when White Feet 
saw some nice grass and scrubby willows, you 
may be quite sure that the little band forgot their 
troubles and ate a good supper. 

“Afterward White Feet examined the long, 
narrow spit. It was low and rolling, and most of it 
was covered with moss and grass. There were dwarf 
willows too, and along its western shore, under a long 







'The First Human Friend 5 1 

bluff, was a level drift of old winter snow. The place 
looked mighty good to White Feet, especially when 
he found that the children were going to live on 
the sand spit with them. That very night the 
hunter and his family moved their tent inside the 
fish-net corral. The little band of fawns had a 
long sleep in perfect safety. 

“Next day the hunter and his wife stood and 
watched the fawns play with the children. The 
hunter seemed to be most interested in White 
Feet. When he spoke to him. White Feet would 
go right up to the hunter and rub his head 
against the man’s arm or leg. You see. White 
Feet had thought it all out and decided that the 
band must have the hunter for a friend; then their 
lives would be safe. But of course the hunter 
didn’t know that. He was very much puzzled. 
He stared at White Feet and talked to him as if 
the fawn with the unheard-of markings were the 
returned spirit of his dead father, who had been 
a chief and a mighty hunter. After a few days 
the hunter went away. 

“The captive fawns soon forgot their sorrow 
and fear. The spit was a safe home. They had 
a variety of forage and plenty of it. They had 
loving companions. They could sleep soundly with¬ 
out fear of enemies. It was a new life to them and 
they liked it. 

“The bigger boy’s name was Dainten. White Feet 
soon discovered that. The two were together 
nearly all the time. They loved each other. 


White Sox 


52 

“But White Feet always remembered that the 
hunter and his family dressed in caribou skins. 
This made him very thoughtful. He felt quite 
sure that if all his followers were allowed to live 
and grow up, they must find a way to be of use 
to the hunter.” 



“‘White Feet smelled at them, but he couldn’t make out what 
Dainten intended to do.’” 


IX 

White Feet Finds a Way of Serving Man 

“One day,” continued Mother Reindeer, “some 
driftwood was washed up by the sea. Dainten 
pulled the pieces up on the beach. He found 
two that were crooked near the end. These 
pieces were of the same length, and the crooked 
ends were bent in about the same way. 

“White Feet smelled at them, but he couldn’t 
make out what Dainten intended to do as he watched 
him place the two pieces side by side, a short 
distance apart. Dainten then took some shorter 
pieces of driftwood, placed them crosswise on the 
others, and lashed them fast with sealskin thongs. 

S3 










White Sox 


54 

It was a strange-looking thing he had made. 
The crooked ends bent upward. To the cross¬ 
piece nearest these he fastened a stout rope of 
sealskin thongs. He then placed his little sister 
and brother on the thing and pulled them over 
the snow.” 

“I know!” exclaimed White Sox, quickly. 
“That was a sled.” 

“It was,” said Mother Reindeer. “White 
Feet stood and watched them use the sled. He 
was doing some hard thinking. He wanted to do 
everything he saw Dainten do. When the bigger 
boy had given his little brother and sister one 
ride. White Feet asked Dainten to let him draw 
the sled. Of course Dainten didn’t know what 
White Feet was saying; but when White Feet 
put his neck under the rope and tried to take his 
place in front of the sled, Dainten began to under¬ 
stand. 

“He laughed and patted White Feet. He put 
the rope around his neck and tied it so it would 
not slip and choke him. Then he tied a small 
piece of rope to the right side of the halter band 
that White Feet was still wearing, and another 
piece to the left side. It was the hour after sun¬ 
set. The snow, which had been soft and mushy 
at noon, was now hard and crusted. 

“Dainten took his place on the front end of the 
sled and held the lines in his hands. His sister 
and brother sat behind him. When all was ready, 
he gave a slap of the lines on the fawn’s sides. 


A Wiay of Serving Man 55 



“‘To prevent its running against his heels, he swerved to the 
left, giving the riders a great spill.’” 















White Sox 


5 6 

White Feet understood. He started very slowly 
and carefully, but he found that the loaded sled 
was easy to draw over the trail of hard snow. 
When Dainten urged him to go faster, he broke 
into a trot. All the other fawns joined the party. 
It was wonderful fun. 

“On their return to the starting place, Dainten 
thought he would see how fast they could go. He 
gave a harder slap of the lines. Away they went 
down the gentle slope. The snow from the hind 
hoofs of White Feet hit their faces and made the 
children laugh. How glad they were, and how 
happy! And how proud White Feet was to be of 
service to them! 

“They were going so fast as they neared the 
bottom of the slope that White Feet could not keep 
ahead of the sled. To prevent its running against 
his heels, he swerved to the left, giving the riders 
a great spill.” 

“Mother, that’s a wonderful story!” cried 
White Sox. “That was the first sled reindeer, 
the first reindeer harness, the first reindeer ride, 
and the first spill!” 

“Yes, my son,” said Mother Reindeer, “the 
very first. It was the beginning of a new kind of 
service to man. As I told you before, the hunter 
was away. He came home while the children were 
sledding on the snow. He stepped from his boat 
and watched them in great surprise. And oh, 
how he laughed when the sled upset! He patted 
White Feet and spoke kindly to him, and he 


A IV,ay of Serving Man 5 7 

nodded his head upward and downward several 
times. Then he put the harness on Blackie and 
tied him in front of the little sled. 

“White Feet told Blackie to watch for the sig¬ 
nal and go very carefully. Dainten’s brother 
drove him. Blackie did good work. You see, he 
had watched White Feet and had learned how to 
do as he did. Dainten’s brother was very proud 
of Blackie. 

“After a while the hunter went to his boat. 
All the children and the fawns followed him to see 
what he had brought from his hunting trip. 
First he took out a lot of ducks, some geese, and 
a swan. Then he unloaded a great many brown 
and white ptarmigan. His wife was much pleased 
when she saw that he had brought her two hair 
seals. She and the children carried the birds and 
dragged the seals up to the tent. But the fawns 
didn’t follow then. The hunter was pulling some 
fresh caribou skins out of his boat.” 

“Oh!” cried White Sox, in excitement. 

“Yes,” said Mother Reindeer, “and the very 
first skin White Feet smelled at was his own 
mother’s. The neck and hind legs were all chewed 
up by the teeth of wolves. Of course he felt 
very badly about it. The world seemed a lonely 
place to him after losing his mother. But he 
knew again that a leader must not think of him¬ 
self. He smelled at the other skins. They all 
showed the teeth marks of wolves, and all of them 
were the skins of old mothers. 


White Sox 


58 

“White Feet knew that the old mothers were 
usually the weaklings of the herd. Their death 
saved many fawns from being caught. Then it 
came to White Feet that the death of these 
mothers might be the means of saving his own little 
band of fawns. The hunter and his family would 
now have plenty of caribou skins for the coming 
winter. They would not need his and Blackie’s 
and those of the doe fawns. 

“It was while White Feet was smelling at the 
skins that Dainten returned from the tent. The 
boy stood beside White Feet and looked at him, 
just for all the world as if he understood that the 
poor torn skin had belonged to White Feet’s 
mother. From that minute Dainten and White 
Feet became lifelong friends. Dainten patted the 
fawn and tried to comfort him. To White Feet 
a human being had taken the place of his own 
dear old mother. 

“Later, the hunter helped the boys make better 
harness for White Feet and Blackie. It was the 
kind now used by our herders. Instead of the 
curved piece of wood for each shoulder, he used 
a strap of sealskin about as broad as your ear, 
placing it over the left shoulder and neck and be¬ 
tween the fore legs. The two ends of this band 
were fastened to the end of the single trace, back 
of the right fore leg, where they passed under the 
belly band. The trace stretched from the ends 
of the collar band to the sled, outside of the 
right hind leg. 


A IVay of Serving Man 5 9 

“With these harnesses the hunter trained White 
Feet and Blackie to work together. He was well 
pleased with them and sent his five dogs to his 
brother, who lived a day’s journey down the beach. 
The hunter knew that it would require much of 
the dried meat he had put up through the summer 
to feed his team dogs through the winter. His 
new sled deer didn’t eat meat. That meant less 
work for the hunter and his wife. 

“Of course the hunter was anxious to try out 
these sled deer with a heavy load. Luckily for 
White Feet and Blackie, their muscles were hard 
and strong by the time the first new snow came. 
They had plenty of back-fat too. All their work 
had been but play, but now they were to be of 
real service to man. The hunter’s supplies, 
gathered during the summer, must be moved from 
the spit to a small grove of alders a day’s jour¬ 
ney inland. This was the hunter’s winter home.” 






The first load hauled by White Feet and Blackie. 


X 

The Hunter Becomes a Herder 

“The first load hauled by White Feet and 
Blackie,” continued Mother Reindeer, “consisted 
of the. tent skins and poles, sleeping skins, cloth¬ 
ing, cooking pots, and part of the stock of dried 
fish. It was a big load, but it looked bigger than 
it really was. The other native people were very 
much surprised to see such a load drawn by two 
pastured caribou fawns. 

“On the following day White Feet and Blackie 
were so tired and stiff that Dainten tethered them 
out in a good moss patch near the winter camp. 
His brother and sister kept watch over them. 

60 




"The Hunter Becomes a Herder 61 


The five doe fawns stayed near White Feet and 
Blackie. The hunter made them a small corral 
of alders, so that his little herd would be well 
protected from wolves in the nighttime. 

“This hunter was a wise man. He knew that 
when wild caribou had been chased for several 
days they became very thin and poor. He now 
found that moss was not so strengthening to the 
fawns as meat was to the dogs. He wished to 
keep the little herd until they were grown up; 
so he took good care of them and allowed them to 
rest well before he took them back to the summer 
camp for another big load. You see, my son, the 
fierce hunter was becoming a good herder. The 
taming of the fawns had also tamed him and his 
family. The pastured caribou fawns were now 
called reindeer.” 

“Did they never see any of the wild caribou 
again?” White Sox asked. 

“No, not to speak to,” Mother Reindeer said, 
“but they soon became used to the ways of their 
human friends and were quite content. Before 
the November moon was gone, all the seal oil, 
dried fish, and meat had been hauled from the 
spit to the winter camp. The hunter had more 
than enough food stored up for his family; so he 
gaye his attention to studying the ways and 
habits of caribou and taking care of his first little 
herd of reindeer. 

“On clear days, and on nights when the moon 
was shining, he had the children take turns at 


62 


White Sox 


watching the herd while it grazed. He took the 
sharp claws of the big Oogarook seals and fas¬ 
tened them to the ends of pieces of alder, about 
as big as your hoof. These made fine rakes or 
moss scratchers. The children used these scratch¬ 
es for digging moss, which they put inside the 
corral for the fawns to eat on stormy days and dark 
nights. The first herder was a thoughtful man; he 
didn’t want his herd to grow thin and poor.” 

“He was more thoughtful than some of our 
herders that Uncle Slim tells about,” said White 
Sox. 

Mother Reindeer nodded her head. “The first 
herder and his family had become so fond of 
their reindeer that they all seemed like one 
family,” she said. “The human beings couldn’t 
understand the caribou language, but White Feet 
and his band soon came to understand many na¬ 
tive words. Dainten’s brother was named Tah- 
ne-na. His sister’s name was Tah-nes-ka.” 

White Sox had listened carefully to every word 
his mother had said. To him it was a very won¬ 
derful story. The more he thought about it, the 
more he wished to be like White Feet in mind as 
well as in body. After pondering for a while in 
silence, he said: 

“I can see all the pictures now, mother — the 
careless caribou herd, the sneaking wolves, and 
the little band of fawns on the hill. Always the 
weakest of the herd were sacrificed in order that 
the stronger ones might escape and live a little 


The Hunter Becomes a Herder 63 



“‘Our herders watch us at night only during the season when 
the ground is bare and we are inclined to scatter.’” 

while longer. Always danger, unrest, and fear! 
I see the other pictures — one brave caribou fawn 
thinking and planning for the safety of those who 
depended on him, and boldly doing things no 
other caribou had ever dared to do. I see that 
first corral on the narrow spit, the first little sled 
and harness, the first little caribou serving man 
for the love of him. Each needed something the 
other had to give. The fawns needed protection. 
The human beings needed beasts of burden that 
would be a source of food, instead of those for 
whom food had to be provided.” 

White Sox had learned his lesson. Mother Rein¬ 
deer felt proud of him. 






White Sox 


6 + 

“But listen, son,” she said. “I have not yet 
finished my story. The first little herd of reindeer 
increased in numbers as the years went by, 
doubling their number every third spring. The 
two boys grew to manhood and married, and had 
families of their own. The old hunter and his 
wife died. There came a time when the herd was 
too large for the corrals. Dainten and Tah-ne-na 
had to take on new herders to help with the work. 
They now herded their reindeer in the open, day 
and night.” 

“We are not herded at night, mother,” White 
Sox said. 

“That is true, my son,” saic^ Mother Reindeer. 
“On this side of the big waters there are not so 
many wolves. Our herders watch us at night 
only during the season when the ground is bare 
and we are inclined to scatter.” 

“How did you get across the big waters, 
mother?” 

“That is what I’m going to tell you now,” 
she said. 



“My mother was a beautiful spotted reindeer.” 


XI 

How Mother Reindeer Came to Alaska 

“At last the herd became so big that it had to 
be divided,” said Mother Reindeer. “Dainten 
had always claimed White Feet. Tah-ne-na had 
claimed Blackie. Now Dainten took all the spotted 
and white reindeer and moved toward the rising sun, 
where his wife’s people lived. Tah-ne-na had only 
the dark reindeer for his herd. He moved toward 
the setting sun, where his wife’s people had come 
from. They moved the two herds so far apart 
that they could never mingle again. Tah-ne-na’s 
herd multiplied and stocked the shores toward the 
setting sun. Dainten’s herd increased rapidly and 
spread along the shores toward the rising sun.” 

65 








66 


White Sox 


“You belonged to Dainten, didn’t you, 
mother?” White Sox asked. 

“Dainten and White Feet had been dead for 
ages and ages before I was born,” said Mother 
Reindeer. “I belonged to one of the herds that 
descended from White Feet. My mother was a 
beautiful spotted reindeer, and my father was a 
great leader of a band of wild caribou. When I 
was a fawn, all the members of our family were 
roped and hobbled. We were taken on board a 
big floating corral and brought across the waters 
to a place some thirty days’ journey from here. 
That floating corral was a long, narrow, smoky, 
noisy, quivering thing that moved over the sur¬ 
face of the waters toward the rising sun. It was a 
dreadful journey. Our mothers were too much 
scared to eat. The fawns were bleating all the 
time. For two suns there was no land anywhere 
in sight — nothing but water and fog, water and 
fog. We didn’t know what the herders were going 
to do to us. We were all very much afraid. 

“At last we came to another shore. The float¬ 
ing corral moved close up to the land and we were 
taken off. The place was strange. The people 
were strange. We were still very much afraid, 
but it was better to be on shore than on the 
floating corral. After a few days the floating corral 
came again and landed more reindeer. We were 
Very glad to see our old friends, and we grew 
more contented. 

“But in this new land we had strange men for 


Coming to Alaska 


67 



“‘We were taken on board a big floating corral and brought 
across the waters.’” 


herders, to help our own herders who came with 
us on the floating corral. They were too old to 
learn how to take care of us. After a while we 
had more new herders, men who wore shoes that 
curved up at the toes, like boat sleds. They wore 
high caps stuffed with feathers and spoke a strange 
language. They threw the lasso straight, without 
warning, instead of curling it three times around 
overhead before shooting it out. But at last we 
had some young men for herders, and they did 
much better by us. Young people are like fawns; 
they learn quickly. It was then that we began 
to love the new land and our new herders.” 

“You’ve seen a great deal, mother, but how did 
you get up here, thirty days’ journey from the 










68 White Sox 

place where you first lived in this new land?” 
White Sox asked. 

“That’s another story, my son,” Mother Rein¬ 
deer said. “I will tell you about it after all your 
other lessons are learned. This much I will tell 
you now. One day some strange men came to 
our new land and talked with our herders. In 
a little while two reindeer herds on this side of 
the big waters were put together and driven north. 
The little bit of winter daylight had just begun 
to grow longer as we started. We didn’t know 
where we were going, but we thought it must be 
on a long trip, because some sleds were loaded with 
food for the herders who were driving us. 

“Our journey was on both land and sea. The 
sea was frozen over. We were on it two days and 
nights. Our sleds could not haul enough moss to 
feed the entire herd. The weak' reindeer dropped 
on the ice and were left behind. Some ate too 
much of the salty frost that covered the ice. It 
made them thirsty. They became faint and were 
left behind. After we left the ice, our way lay 
across a mountainous country. When we had 
crossed that, wolves scented us and followed us 
many nights. It was a hard journey, much too 
hard and long for mothers at that time of the 
season. 

“But at the end of the second moon we reached 
the place near the sea beach, where we now live. 
There we found many floating corrals among the 
ice and many strange men in houses. Then came 


Coming to Alaska 69 

the most terrible part of it all. Half the herd was 
butchered and hauled into the village where the 
men were.” 

“Mother!” exclaimed White Sox, in horror. 
“Did they kill all the males at once?” 

“There were but few males in the herd,” she 
answered. “Many of those killed were mothers 
and sisters. We didn’t understand it. But your 
grandmother — her name was Spot — talked with 
a wild caribou that came near the herd. He told 
her that hunters had killed a great many wild caribou 
that winter and taken their bodies to the village. 
Together they reasoned it out that the men had 
no other kind of food, and that we had 
been brought there to keep that great herd of 
men from starving. Spot was a sled deer — ” 

“I thought you said she was my grandmother,” 
White Sox broke in. “Did the reindeer mothers 
have to draw sleds after the big killing?” 

“Spot did,” said Mother Reindeer. “Your 
Uncle Slim was a fawn then. He trotted along 
beside her when she pulled the loaded sled. 
The herders made a little harness for him and 
worked him with his mother.” 

That was the end of Mother Reindeer’s story. 
If you want to know more about the big killing 
at Point Barrow, you must read about how the 
whaling vessels were frozen in the ice there and how 
more than two hundred white men were reported 
starving during the coldest part of the long winter. 


rjo White Sox 

The herders sacrificed their reindeer to save the 
lives of these men. Of course Mother Reindeer 
did not know anything about whaling vessels; 
she called a ship a floating corral. But she was a 
wise old mother reindeer, for all that. Don t 
you think so? 


“Away he dashed, with Mother Reindeer at his heels.” 



XII 

White Sox Learns His Last Lesson 

White Sox and his mother had been silent for 
a long time. But White Sox was not asleep; he 
had a great deal to think about, and he had just 
made up his mind that he must not be a baby any 
longer. He had been to school and had learned 
many lessons. He must be a leader now. And 
now was the time for him to make a start. 

“Mother,” he said, after he had looked about 
him this way and that, this way and that, “the 
moon is going to bed. I see a little streak of day¬ 
light creeping over the edge of the world. Let us 
take a run through that little valley below and 

71 












7 2 White Sox 

finish our lesson on the top of that ridge to the 
north of here, after we have eaten some break¬ 
fast.” 

“All right,” said Mother Reindeer. She rose 
and stretched herself, but she did not offer any 
advice. She wanted to see what kind of leader 
White Sox would make. 

First he tried to find which way the breeze was 
blowing. Then he turned his nose in that direc¬ 
tion and sniffed several times. But not a thing 
could he scent. He looked very carefully every¬ 
where. But not a thing could he see. 

“Come on!” he cried; and down the knoll he 
started at a swift trot. He was thinking how 
much he wished to be like White Feet, but all 
the same he kept a sharp lookout to the east and 
to the west while he kept his nose turned to the 
north. 

There was plenty of fine moss being trampled 
under his feet, but he did not stop to taste it. 
Up, up he went, to the very top of the next low 
ridge. When he saw that all was safe, he began 
to feed on the splendid moss under the blanket 
of snow. 

Presently he looked up and said, “White Feet 
died a natural death, didn’t he, mother?” 

“Yes, so we are told,” Mother Reindeer an¬ 
swered. “But he reached a ripe old age before 
he died.” 

White Sox ate awhile in silence; then he spoke 
again. “I think I understand it all now, mother. 


His Last Lesson 


73 



“ ‘ In olden times the poor mothers were sacrificed to feed the 
wolves.’ ” 


White Feet was allowed to live because his ser¬ 
vices to man were of more value than his flesh 
and skin. He was a great leader and a wise 
teacher. He taught his herd and their off¬ 
spring obedience to man and thankfulness for pro¬ 
tection. He changed the order of things entirely. 

“In olden times the poor mothers were sacrificed 
to feed the wolves. Now the sons are sacrificed 
to feed man, their protector. The sons pay the 
debt which enables the mothers to live in peace 
and safety.” 

“Yes, my son,” said the proud mother, “and 
you must know that the wild caribou have de¬ 
creased in numbers year by year; but the rein- 



White Sox 


74 

deer, under the protection of man, have multi¬ 
plied until now they form many mighty herds.” 

“That proves that the new way is better, 
mother,” said White Sox. “ Service and sacrifice 
for the males! That is now our law. That is 
why you didn’t complain when my two big broth¬ 
ers were butchered.” 

Mother Reindeer nodded her head. 

“Our worst enemies did us a kind turn when 
they stampeded White Feet and his little band 
into the hunter’s tent, ” continued White Sox. 
“And man, our next worst enemy, did us a better 
turn when he taught us to serve him. Mother, if I 
am to live to a ripe old age and die a natural 
death, I must make myself so useful to man that 
my services will be of greater value than my flesh 
and skin. Isn’t that right, mother?” 

“That’s the whole lesson, my son,” Mother 
Reindeer said. “And now I will tell you that I 
have always wanted to be .the mother of a second 
White Feet. I was pleased because you were marked 
like the great leader, but I am more pleased that 
you are able to think like him. A leader has to 
face many trials of courage and many tempta¬ 
tions, and has great cares and responsibilities. It 
is only by overcoming all temptations and weak¬ 
nesses and by boldly doing your duty that you 
become of great service to man and to your kind.” 

White Sox nodded his head. “Yes, mother,” 
he said thoughtfully. “I’ve been worrying about 
my spoiled stockings and what the herd would 


His Last Lesson 


75 

think of these black ones, but now I’m glad my 
legs are black. By the time the hair comes next 
summer, and my new white stockings appear, I 
shall have learned many more lessons. I’ve one 
more question to ask. Do you ever wish to re¬ 
turn to the land where White Feet lived?” 

“No,” said the kind old mother, “this is a 
better land for reindeer. The moss here is better. 
We have more timber, better sleds and harness, 
good herding dogs to help keep off our enemies, 
and good herders. I’m getting old, my son, but 
I hope to live to see you leader of the big 
herd — as wise and useful as your great ancestor.” 

“Thank you, mother dear,” he said gently. 
“Thank you for telling me the big story. My! 
what a foolish fawn I was — wanting to stay 
with our wild cousins! How glad I am the wolves 
chased us away!” 

He looked to the north, then to the west. He 
sniffed the air and turned this way and that, this 
way and that. At last he turned to the north and 
looked very steadily. 

What do you think he saw? 

A cloud of fog was rising from the ground. It 
was only a few miles ahead of them. The morn¬ 
ing sky was bright and clear. The air was very 
cold. 

“It looks like fog, but it can’t be fog,” he said 
doubtfully. Then he became excited. 

“Mother, our big herd is right yonder where 
that fog bank is,” he shouted. 


White Sox 


76 

“Yes, my son,” said Mother Reindeer. “That 
fog cloud is their frozen breath.” 

“Come on!” cried White Sox. 

Away he dashed, with Mother Reindeer at his 
heels. 

































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• ANIMAL LIFE SERIES 


STORY of MATKA 


A Tale of the 
Mist Islands 





Py DAVID 
STARR JORDAN 


1 VT O more charmingly devised nature story can be cited 
1 than this. It makes a stirring appeal to the imagina- 

| tions of boys and girls, and holds the interest of all from 
| the fifth grade to high school. 

| In the hands of the master stylist the tale of seal life is un- 

| folded in a series of intimate and accurate pictures that will 

1 ever endear “the silken haired ones’’ to youthful readers. 
| The little wars and wooings, the young adventures, and 
| the dark tragedies that may take place in the life of 
| these seals are vividly pictured. 

| The story is a mine of delightful information about these 
| valuable and unfamiliar denizens of the North seas. Did 
| you know that seals shed tears and groan when emotion- 

| ally aroused? That they always return to their home in 

| the spring after spending the winter in the South? These 

| and other fascinating tidbits make it of interest to older 

1 persons too. The book is illustrated from photographs 

| and drawings by Chloe Leslie Starks. 

| The appendix contains an article on the fur seals of the 

| Pribilof Islands by George Archibald Clark. Price 8o cts. 

1 

| 

S 

| 


WORLD BOOK COMPANY 

Yonkers-on-Hudson, New York 
2126 Prairie Avenue, Chicago 


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• Slon es of ■ 

WOODS AND 

Brown 

; :: WOHU>BOOK COMPANY 


WHEN THE 

WORLD WAS 
; YOUNG : 

1 . Brown ’ j Yf 

| WORLD BOOK 

r 

; Stories of 

CHILDHOOD 
AND NATURE 


[ ELIZABETH V. BROWN’S 

| NATURE AND INDUSTRY | 
j READERS | 

T HESE books draw upon the world’s best literature, 
and present well-selected nature material and 
I stories of industry. They are adapted for use either 

| as readers, or to supplement nature, geography, and his- 
| tory lessons. 

STORIES OF WOODS AND FIELDS 

| Alluring stories of animals, with chapters on our national holi- 
| days. For fourth and fifth grades. 

Cloth. 192 pages. Illustrated in colors. Price $1.00. 

WHEN THE WORLD WAS YOUNG 

= A fascinating story of the development of modern means of com- 
| munication, transportation, agriculture, etc. Affords material for 
| supplementary history lessons. For fifth or higher grades. 

Cloth. 160 pages. Illustrated. Price 80 cents. 

STORIES OF CHILDHOOD AND NATURE 

| Stories of unusual interest, by some of the greatest and most 
| gifted authors. Much of the material is of pronounced geo- 
| graphic value. For fifth and sixth grades. 

1 Cloth. 222 pages. Illustrated. Price $1.00. 

WORLD BOOK COMPANY 

| Yonkers-oit-Hudson, New York 

2126 Prairie Avenue, Chicago f 

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I INSECT ADVENTURES I 


By J. HENRI FABRE 

Selected and Arranged for Young People by Louis Seymour Hasbrouck 



| \ NEW supplementary reader in nature study for the | 

| ii intermediate grades. A book containing a vast | 
| amount of information relating to insect life—the life | 

| story of the spider, the fly, the bee, the wasp, and other | 

1 insects—told by one who was at once a lover of nature, a | 

| great scientist, and a most entertaining writer. Maeter- | 

| linck calls Fabre the “insects’ Homer,” and declares that | 

| his work is as much a classic as the famous Greek epic, | 

| and deserves to be known and studied as a classic. 

| This is the first time that Fabre’s writings have been f 

| made available for school use, and the book will prove | 

| a delight to school children wherever they are given the | 

| chance to read it. No live boy or girl could fail to be 1 

| interested in nature subjects presented by so gifted a § 

| naturalist as Fabre in the form of such absorbing ad- | 

| ventures. | 

| The many quaint sketches with which the book has been | 
| illustrated by Elias Goldberg complete its charm. 

| A useful index is included. | 

| Cloth. 300 pages. Price $1.40 | 

I WORLD BOOK COMPANY 

E Yonkers-on-Hudson, New York ! 

| 2126 Prairie Avenue, Chicago | 

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1 CONSERVATION SERIES I 



Conservation Reader 

By HAROLD W. FAIRBANKS, PA. D. 

Lecturer, University of California ; Geography Supervisor Berkeley 

Public Schools 

A small book bringing out in a simple and interesting manner the | 
principles of conservation of natural resources has long been wanted, | 

for there has been little on the subject that could be placed in the hands 
of pupils. It is to answer this need that Fairbanks’ Conservation 
Reader has been prepared. | 

The book touches upon every phase of conservation, but it deals at | 

greatest length with saving the soil, the forests, and wild life^ It is one | 

of the author's main purposes to arouse a stronger sentiment for pre- | 

serving what remains of the forests as well as for extending their areas. § 

This is because proper forestation will lessen the danger of floods and 
of erosion of the soil, and it will encourage the return of the wild crea- | 

tures that are of so much economic importance and add so much to the | 

joy of life. | 

The matter is presented in an easy narrative style that is calculated to 
arouse the intelligent interest of children. The text is illustrated with 
photographs of wild animals, trees, landscapes, and rarely beautiful § 
birds, printed in colors. The subject is timely and the treatment is | 
happy throughout. | 

Conservation Reader should be used as a reader or as a book for 
regular study in every elementary school in the country. 

Cloth, vi + 216 pages. | 

Price $ 1 . 20 . i 

WORLD BOOK COMPANY 

Yonkers-on-Hudson, New York | 

2126 Prairie Avenue, Chicago | 


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